Li Qinwu's decision to bring the Silent One back to his territory was not impulsive.
It had been carefully calculated.
His brewery was about to begin operations, and once money started flowing, greedy eyes from every nearby gang would turn toward him. The Fertilizer Gang's territory was close, and even the men currently working under him had been borrowed from them.
Their loyalty was temporary.
He needed someone powerful enough to guard the brewery and terrifying enough to deter trouble.
The Silent One was perfect.
A man capable of slaughtering hundreds of rebels with a single psychic shockwave was more valuable than an army of thugs.
And he was easy to manage.
All Li Qinwu needed to do was keep supplying him with "sacred food."
Without Warp voices whispering in his head, the Silent One was not naturally violent. Beneath the madness was an insecure, lonely soul starved of companionship after years of isolation.
When Li Qinwu invited him to live at his home, the man had nearly burst with joy.
After settling that matter, Li Qinwu took Xiao Dao and headed toward the PDF encampment.
They entered Lieutenant Rudolf's defensive sector, where the officer personally drove them partway toward the combat zone in an open-topped military vehicle.
As the engine rumbled over broken terrain, Rudolf spoke.
"Lieutenant Winchester may move within the next few days. He's located a rebel camp led by someone called Old Man Sen. They're preparing an assault."
He glanced at Li Qinwu.
"Stay near your radio. If the operation begins, I'll contact you."
Then he pointed to a metal weapons case beside Xiao Dao in the rear seat.
"There's a PDF sniper rifle inside. One-to-twenty power optic. Fires high-pressure armor-piercing rounds."
He grinned.
"I also got you five hundred rounds. Practice when you can. When the time comes, blow that bastard Winchester's head off in one shot."
Li Qinwu gave Xiao Dao a meaningful glance.
Still confused, Xiao Dao picked up the case and handed it over.
Li Qinwu opened it.
Inside lay a heavy long-barreled sniper rifle, matte black and brutally functional. The oversized optic mounted on top looked more expensive than the gun itself.
He closed the case and tossed it back.
"Relax," Li Qinwu said calmly. "Winchester is already dead. If he escapes the camp, tell me where he runs."
"I'll handle the rest."
Later, Li Qinwu brought up the real reason for his visit.
His brewery was already operational, and he needed grain from the rebels. He asked Rudolf whether the promised military sales channels had been opened.
Rudolf laughed loudly.
"Don't worry. Everyone in our regiment drinks—from the commander to the newest recruit. Three thousand men minimum."
He slapped the steering wheel proudly.
"The monthly output of your little brewery probably wouldn't satisfy them for a single day."
Li Qinwu felt only contempt.
A military force bragging about institutional alcoholism.
This rotten world truly had no bottom.
Soon Rudolf brought them as far as he safely could. Beyond this point, rebel scouts might open fire on any vehicle they spotted.
He stopped the truck beside them and lowered his voice.
"A few days ago, a fool in the neighboring company got drunk and wandered into a minefield."
Rudolf shook his head.
"Lost both legs."
"No compensation. His family can't pay the medical costs, and they're about to be thrown out of their shelter."
He looked directly at Li Qinwu.
"Want to take them in?"
Li Qinwu asked immediately, "How many family members?"
"The crippled soldier himself. Parents in their forties—still able to work. A younger brother in his twenties."
Li Qinwu silently calculated.
One non-working burden in exchange for three usable laborers, including one young man fit to become an armed guard.
Worth it.
Rudolf added casually, "If you take them, their company commander owes me a favor. Helps my future promotion."
He smirked.
"And once you start selling alcohol in camp, that same officer may insist his company gets priority."
Li Qinwu gave the obvious answer.
"Done."
Rudolf promised to contact him by radio, then drove off, leaving Li Qinwu and Xiao Dao near the contested zone.
Li Qinwu found a concealed depression among rocks and brush, then placed the rifle case and ammunition beside Xiao Dao.
"You stay hidden here."
"I'll collect you when I return."
Originally, he had intended to bring Xiao Dao into the rebel camp.
Now that he possessed a sniper rifle, he changed his mind. If the rebels stole it, the loss would be painful.
Xiao Dao watched Li Qinwu walk away, eyes full of admiration.
The calm confidence, connections, and capability Li Qinwu displayed belonged to a world far above ordinary underhive thugs.
To someone like Xiao Dao, who might have spent decades as expendable muscle for the Fertilizer Gang, following Boss Li felt like stepping onto a new path.
That was precisely Li Qinwu's intention.
Bringing Xiao Dao here had been deliberate.
First, it forced him to compare futures.
Serve Li Qinwu—or crawl back to gang life forever.
Second, Li Qinwu wanted word to leak back to the Fertilizer Gang.
Let them know he had ties with the Planetary Defence Force.
Touching him might mean provoking the military.
The strategy worked.
For a long time, the gang could not determine what background Li Qinwu truly possessed. Even after the brewery began generating profit, they did not dare move against him lightly.
By the time greed finally overcame caution, Li Qinwu had already become someone they could no longer afford to offend.
Old Man SenLi Qinwu moved alone through the forest where the rebels hid.
Eventually he reached a large tree ringed by rocks and stopped in a neutral zone. Going deeper uninvited was suicide. Rebel sentries—both visible and concealed—watched every approach.
He needed to signal them.
The code was ridiculous.
One had to mimic a common local bird at a specific rhythm.
Li Qinwu leaned against the trunk, inhaled deeply, and shouted:
"Gugu ga ga! Gugu ga ga? Gugu ga ga ah!"
Silence.
Then bushes rustled ahead.
Two armed rebels emerged, rifles raised, eyes full of suspicion.
Several minutes later, Li Qinwu was escorted into a crude wooden hut deep within the rebel camp.
The leader sat waiting.
Li Qinwu placed an automatic rifle on the table, then laid down two full magazines beside it.
"As agreed. Weapon delivered. Three magazines total, sixty rounds."
He folded his arms.
"Now where is the grain?"
The rebel leader lifted the gun, expertly field-stripped it, inspected the chamber, rifling, and mechanism, then reassembled it.
"What I asked for was a PDF service rifle," he said flatly. "This is homemade."
Li Qinwu ignored the complaint.
Instead, he took three glass tubes from his pocket. Each contained fine white powder.
"High-purity anti-inflammatory and antibacterial medicine."
He set them down carefully.
"One tube can treat at least twenty people."
His eyes sharpened.
"This first batch is a gift."
"After today, each tube costs one ton of grain."
The rebel leader's expression changed instantly.
Medicine.
Real medicine.
Their camp constantly lost fighters not from bullets, but from infected wounds. Men survived firefights only to rot from untreated injuries days later.
These three tubes alone could save lives.
He slowly accepted them.
When he looked at Li Qinwu again, the hostility had softened into gratitude.
"Thank you, Scavenger," he said sincerely. "Whatever comes later, these will save my comrades."
At that exact moment, the system's voice rang inside Li Qinwu's mind.
Ding! Mission complete. Relationship with contact: Rebel Leader upgraded from Lv0 to Lv1. New trade categories unlocked: Food, Tools, Supplies.
Li Qinwu barely cared about the unlocked goods.
What interested him was the name.
"We've dealt with each other this long," Li Qinwu said. "You still haven't told me who you are."
The old rebel replied calmly.
"Everyone calls me Old Man Sen."
Li Qinwu's eyes narrowed slightly.
Lieutenant Rudolf had just told him that Lieutenant Winchester's next target was a rebel camp led by Old Man Sen.
So this was him.
Old Man Sen noticed the shift in expression.
"What?"
"You've heard of me?"
Li Qinwu smiled and shook his head.
"No."
Then he changed the subject smoothly.
"Show me the grain. Then have your men deliver it to my territory."
Old Man Sen remained suspicious, but the transaction was already underway. He said nothing and led Li Qinwu to the storage hut.
Inside were woven sacks made from plant fiber, each filled with potatoes weighing roughly forty kilograms.
For one rifle, Li Qinwu received seventy-five sacks.
Five horse-drawn carts were brought over, and rebels began loading them immediately.
Seeing there was time to spare, Li Qinwu asked to inspect the camp.
He found vegetable plots scattered between huts, rows of hardy greens, and pens full of local poultry.
Fresh food.
Real food.
He unconsciously licked his lips.
Old Man Sen noticed.
Without hesitation, he ordered three sacks filled with vegetables and had more than ten squawking alien chickens tied and prepared.
"A gift," he said warmly.
"We country folk have little to offer city people except what we grow ourselves."
Li Qinwu accepted without false modesty.
"You don't understand," he said. "The food you eat now is worth as much as what a planetary governor eats."
Old Man Sen laughed in disbelief.
"How can that be? I heard governors eat from gold plates. One meal could buy a hundred of our lives."
Li Qinwu shrugged.
"Maybe the plates are gold."
"But what sits on them still comes from fields like yours."
He gestured toward the crops.
"Perhaps cleaner. Better prepared. Covered in expensive spices."
"But in essence, the same thing."
Old Man Sen fell silent.
After a long moment, he frowned.
"If our crops and livestock are truly valuable…"
"Then if we sold them to neighboring industrial worlds, couldn't we escape poverty?"
Li Qinwu nodded.
"In theory."
"Impossible in practice."
He looked toward the distant sky.
"Interstellar travel in the Imperium is slow, dangerous, and absurdly expensive."
"To reach a nearby world may take months. Sometimes longer."
"And that means Warp travel."
He smirked darkly.
"The Imperium lacks reliable faster-than-light movement through realspace, so ships cut through the Immaterium instead."
"A shortcut through hell."
The Warp was the realm of daemons, madness, storms, and impossible horrors. A ship could enter safely and never emerge again.
"The Imperium may rule a million worlds," Li Qinwu said, "but its logistics are crippled, its fleets overburdened, and its systems decaying."
He looked around the poor rebel camp.
"That is why planets like yours remain trapped."